Give Me Therapy
by DreamsLikeReality
Summary: AU. Arthur has had a traumatic childhood, and is forced into therapy by Francis due to not having any closure. Yet when the big-head American therapist actually does help him, what will Arthur's reaction be to what comes once his therapy sessions end?
1. Chapter 1

_Sometimes in life, things happen that cause problems in someone's life. Some people face these problems head on. But some people try to avoid them, or pretend they don't exist, and try to move on with their life. This is a story of a man with what he thinks is a problem. This is also the story of how this man overcame that problem with the help from someone that he had never expected to get it from…_

_.oOo._

Usually in the mornings, the sun would shine through the curtains, the birds would sing, and Arthur would start his day with a cup of Earl Grey tea, a small smile residing upon his face. This wasn't one of those mornings, though. You see, _this _morning in particular, when Arthur woke up expecting to see everything described above, it was raining harshly against his windows in his bedroom, and there were no birds singing, making it seem empty and lonely outside. And on sad lonely days like this, it could only mean that he had a therapy appointment scheduled.

Arthur hated going to therapy, because it made him feel… different. Though everyone _is _different, going made him feel like people looked at him weird, or that he might be locked up for something that he hadn't done. You know, simple things that people would be paranoid about.

But the only reason that Arthur was going therapy was something that had happened as a child. Not to him, but his mother, and he was the one to stop it.

_.oOo._

_A young Arthur woke to the sound of fighting, one voice sounding like his mother. The other sounding like her boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. She had broken up with him earlier that week, and apparently he had thought that the relationship wouldn't be over till he said it was over._

_He had walked towards the top of the stairs in their house, only to be met with the site of his mother being raped before him. Now at that time, he didn't know what his mothers' ex-boyfriend was doing. But judging by the tears streaming down her face, or maybe even the mortified look on her face, that it had to stop somehow._

_He didn't even hesitate, or bother to look back. He didn't even consider calling the police to take care of the whole situation. Instead, this small boy who would some day turn into a gentleman, ran to his room and grabbed a baseball bat that had been given to him a year earlier from his mother. The next thing he knew, he was down the stairs, and the bat had connected with the man's jaw._

_His mother was still crying, whether from the mortification of being raped, or the shock of her only son beating her ex-boyfriend with a bat. He wouldn't ever know, actually, because two years later, she died in a car crash coming home from work. Arthur never got any closure for what happened, and he didn't want any. It made him feel… different._

_.oOo._

And so, ever since then, Arthur had been avoiding going to therapy, or any other form of physiological help. He just didn't feel the need nor want to go and see someone, because he just didn't see the point in going to talk to someone about what happened years ago in a house in England. He didn't live there anymore, so he had hoped to leave all of the bad memories of everything that had happened behind. But sadly, Francis had found out and called a therapist for him.

And sadly enough today was his first appointment.

_.oOo._

"Arthur, your therapist is ready to see you now." The lady at the desk seemed nice enough. If she was nice, then the therapist would be nice as well, right? It seemed logical enough…

Arthur stood up from the chair he was previously sitting in, making the plastic on it make a slight squeaking noise, causing him to give a slight grimace. He walked towards the therapists' door slowly, not in much of a hurry. He gave a small look at the door, looking for a name or some sign that may indicate a friendly composure and personality. Then again, that wouldn't really give much indication.

He sighed quietly and looked back down. He hesitated for a moment before bringing his hand up to the door in the shape of a fist and quietly knocking.

A voice sounded from behind the door, signaling for him to go ahead. "Come in."

He shook his head lightly with his half lidded eyes before placing his hand gently on the handle of the door and turning slightly, pushing the door open. As he stepped into the room, he lifted his head to look at the source of the voice. He was met with the sight of a young man with blond hair much like his own, but actually cut into a sensible style. And eyes as clear and blue as the sky on a nice spring day with glasses. He looked only maybe a few years younger than Arthur himself…

He looked away before he was accused of staring and shut the door behind him softly. He walked towards the chair he assumed was supposed to be his and sat down, huffing quietly as he did so.

"Welcome," the man said politely. "I'm Dr. Jones, but you can just call me Alfred." Alfred straightened some papers on his desk, making some noise to fill in the silence that had fallen upon the room.

"…Aren't you supposed to be asking me questions or something?" Arthur asked irritably.

"Mm? Well, the point of therapy is to make you more comfortable and help resolve problems of some sort. There's no real point in asking a question without getting an answer." Arthur stared at Alfred with slightly widened eyes, not expecting an answer like that coming from him. Sure, he was a therapist, but if you saw him on the street you'd just think he'd be some dunce. "So long story short, we need to actually get acquainted better before I'm able to ask you some questions. Does that seem okay?"

Arthur just nodded and leaned back into his chair. It was a lot more comfortable than the ones in the lobby of the building…

Alfred smiled lightly at him, before continuing to speak to Arthur. "So why don't you tell me a bit about yourself."

"Like what?"

"How about like why you're here. That might be a good place to start, yes?"

Arthur sighed, preparing to tell the story of why he was here. He crossed his arms lightly and leaned further back into the chair, only to slide out of it a bit.

"I want to forget."

"Forget what, Arthur?"

"…Everything. I don't want to have to deal with the memories anymore."

Alfred leaned forward onto his desk, resting his head on one hand and the other arm residing on the desk by itself. "Memories? What kind, if you don't mind me asking."

Arthur smiled sadly, "You're a therapist. I think you should probably know everything in order to help."

Alfred smiled back at him, nodding. "That's true."

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. "When I was just a young boy, I woke up one night to see mother being raped by her ex-boyfriend. I didn't hesitate, or even think about calling the police. I just… lost it. The next things I knew, I had a bat in my hands and he was on the floor bleeding." Arthur opened up his eyes again, to see if Alfred was still listening.

Alfred nodded towards him, "Go on."

Arthur nodded and kept his eyes open, but looked towards to ground, pretending to be interested in a particular spot on the carpet.

"I managed to give him a broken nose, broken jaw, and a mild concussion before I finally realized what I was doing. So I finally stopped right before the police came." Arthur sighed quietly to himself. "He died about a week later because meningitis contracted during reconstructive surgery."

Alfred just looked at him no differently than he did before Arthur had told the story. "So you're here because of what you saw and what you did. It can place a very large emotional weight on anyone, but especially on a growing child's mind. We can't help you work past it with you all closed up like you are."

Arthur just looked him in the eyes. If he wanted to know how he felt, then he'd damn well tell him.

"You want to know how I feel?" Alfred nodded, waiting to here Arthur's answer.

"I didn't freeze or pause. I just let my brain and body do what I wanted. When the bat connected with his head, it felt _good._ I took control of a wild situation, and it was _right._ People always told me that violence didn't solve anything… Well life's not so simple. My mother always told me that it was important to grow up and be a man when I was younger. Sometimes that means standing up and defending what's right and that can be violent. So, I realize being a man isn't about just having strength. It's about judgment, and how to act towards each situation. That man is dead. I knew that inside I was supposed to feel bad, but I didn't feel anything towards him."

Arthur took a moment to get his breath back from speaking that much before resuming. "I just hope that my feelings don't get me landed in an insane asylum."

The silence in the room was completely unbearable for Arthur, but he guessed that Alfred was used to it or it didn't bother him at all. During the story, Alfred's face had gone blank, but Arthur could tell from Alfred's eyes that he was still listening.

Arthur broke the eye contact that they had both been holding with each other, Alfred's gaze and the silence making him feel vulnerable, so he looked back towards the ground.

Alfred simply studied the man before him. He looked vulnerable, nervous… broken. Alfred smirked at the man before him, and Arthur looked up at him in slight surprise, his eyes slightly wider than before. "…You may go now."

Arthur took a moment before speaking once again. "That's it?"

"Yes. But that's okay, I just have to do some research and we'll meet sometime next week."

"When?" Alfred replaced the smirk on his face with a soft friendly smile.

"Whenever you feel would be best. Or whenever you're ready."

Arthur took a moment to study the man in front of him again. Shaking his head of whatever thought he was thinking at that moment, he stood from the chair that he had claimed. "Alright," he said. He walked towards the door that he had passed through earlier, and hesitated at the door with his hand on the knob.

"Arthur?" Alfred questioned.

Arthur gripped the door knob tighter, turning his knuckles a ghostly pale of white. "It's nothing," he replied hesitantly. Arthur then opened the door and walked out, shutting it softly behind him to go home and sleep the rest of the day, leaving Alfred to himself to sit alone in the clear comfortable room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Oh dear god, why did I still have this on my computer? I remember how the idea came to, but the story-line, not so much, so from here on out it'll all be **_IMPROVISED~! _** /shot


	2. Chapter 2

True to his word as he left Alfred's office, Arthur went home and slept for a while before getting up, much to his dismay. He sighed, keeping his eyes shut in hopes that he could block out the world and go back to sleep.

After about five minutes of that failing to happen, he slowly ripped off the covers on his bed and let his feet touch the cold hardwood floor of his apartment, listening to the rain patter on his bedroom window. It sounded like the raining had gotten lighter since the morning, though it still hadn't completely faded away.

He rubbed one of his eyes gently, and then pushed himself off of the bed, proceeding to walk into the kitchen to make the tea that he had never gotten to have that morning. Earl Grey, of course.

He looked at the clock that was sitting on the counter in his small kitchen as he pulled out a mug from the cabinets. It was just after noon, and Arthur had no idea what he was going to do to make the day go by faster other than sleep. He sighed once again, and figured that he would most likely just go out for a walk or sleep some more.

He slow dipped the small packaged bag of tea leaves in the mug, and then proceeded to push the button on the hot water dispenser, letting it flow into the cup until almost full. Perfect.

He walked back into his room and sat down in his desk chair, awakening the computer with a push of a button and a click of the mouse, setting down his cup of tea gently on the nearest coaster to him. Clicking open an internet window he typed quickly, opening an Instant Messenger to see if anyone was online at the moment. Arthur could only sigh as he saw a message from Francis pop up, the dinging sound alerting him that he had received a message.

'_Arthur, did you go to that session that I had scheduled for you? You had better have gone, Kiku is worried about you, you know.'  
><em>

Arthur took a moment before replying, the clacking of the keyboard filling the silent air. He took a sip of his tea as he read it over.

'_Yes, you bloody idiot. I went. And may I tell you that it wasn't fun at all, it was downright odd. The man tried to seem as if he was my friend!'  
><em>

As he waited for a response from the French-man, Arthur played with the cords under his desk with his toes, trying to amuse himself. He found a small knot in the cords, and he played with it, seeing if it would untangle itself.

Another ding sounded from Arthur's computer, sounding another message.

'_No need to seem so angry, monsieur, I just wanted to make sure you went. And as for the man, he just wanted to seem friendly, is all. I'm sure he just wants you to feel as comfortable as possible before he starts asking questions.'  
><em>

Arthur looked at the most recent message from his companion, reading it over a few times before starting to write out a reply.

'_Why in hell would he want me to be bloody comfortable to ask question? It's not like he would care, this is just his job.'  
><em>

Arthur hit the enter button on his keyboard, sending his response. He sipped at his tea comfortably, feeling content in just drinking tea and maybe reading a book. Every book he owned though he had read at least twice, though. As another ding came from the computer, Arthur sighed and turned the volume all the way down to make sure he didn't get a headache from the noise.

'_Have you ever thought that maybe this man is nice, and actually wants to help and not make money like I'm presuming you assumed?'  
><em>

Arthur stared at the response, his face blank. He certainly hadn't expected that, especially from the frog himself. He shook his head as he closed the window, turning in the chair and grabbing his tea before sitting back down on his bed.

He played with the covers, fiddling them between his fingers while sipping his tea, then started into the now empty cup, looking at the tea leaves floating around in what little was left in his cup. He sighed, setting it down on the small low table next to his bed, and laid down on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling.

He thought about what Francis had said, his features calm. That couldn't be true; therapists are always mean and uncaring or nosy and greedy. Either way, they get their money once they're done talking to whomever. Arthur's therapist should be no different, and yet Arthur found himself thinking twice about that. When they talked Alfred sound like he cared, and his eyes showed kindness only people once in a lifetime could hold.

Arthur sighed once more before shutting his eyes and laying his arm over his eyes, listening to the rain patter against his window as he fell into the dark abyss of sleep. It was time to dream.

* * *

><p><em>A younger Arthur, only the about the age of 8 awoke to the sound of yelling. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, wondering what all the noise was about. As he looked at the clock he saw how late past his bedtime was, and the only thing he could do was yawn and keep rubbing his tired eyes, walking out of his room soundlessly.<br>_

_Young Arthur walked to the top of the staircase leading downstairs, and peeked at the scene from behind a wall, afraid of being caught and getting in trouble with his mother.  
><em>

"_Amelia, look at me." That would have been Arthur's mother's name, though the man speaking it would have been her ex-boyfriend.  
><em>

"_No, Dan. Not this time. You have to leave…"  
><em>

_Arthur stayed where he was, not sure what was happening. Dan had apparently showed up some time ago, wearing a cloak, while his mother answered it in her bath robe. She had just about to go to bed, too.  
><em>

_Dan grabbed Amelia's shoulder's, and she made a scared sounding squeaking noise, caught off guard by the sudden action. "Amelia, don't do this to me. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met!"  
><em>

"_Let go of me!"  
><em>

"_Amelia, please just listen to me!"  
><em>

_Arthur still watched the scene, unaware that something bad was going to happen. His childish bright green eyes were wide, filled with fear for his mother. Even though he didn't know what was happening, she looked scared, and that alone was enough to scare Arthur. Arthur watched his mother try to push Dan away, only resulting in him getting angry and slapping her hard across the face, making Amelia to fall back onto the couch with a small scream. Arthur's eyes filled with tears at this, and he was no longer peeking from behind a wall.  
><em>

"_God damn it! Don't make me get rough! Or maybe that's how you want it!"  
><em>

_Instead, he was now running to the nearest closet, opening it quickly and grabbing a baseball bat that his mother had bought him for his birthday earlier that year. He ran back towards his mother and Dan as fast he could, too late to prevent his mother from being violated.  
><em>

_Amelia muttered under her breath, watching with tears in her eyes as her beloved son Arthur was running towards them with his baseball bat in his hands, getting ready to swing. "Oh, god, no…"  
><em>

_And in that instant, the bat that Arthur had been wielding collided with the man's head, causing Arthur's bat to splinter, making him wince at the fraction of pain in his hands, and also causing Dan to stumble back only for a moment before Arthur had swung his bat once again, this time aimed directly at his face. Blood spewed from his nose and face, covering the bat and some of the carpeting.  
><em>

_Arthur looked back at his mother slightly confused, and still holding the bat just in case the vile man decided to try and get up to harm his mother again. She was watching him with a scared expression on her face, her lip busted, a bruised eye and temple.  
><em>

"_Mom?"_

* * *

><p><em><em>**A/N:** This was hell to write, no joke. I didn't really know what to do with chapter, so I just kinda went with whatever went through my mind to my hands. c:

So yeah~! :D Now we know exactly what happened when Arthur beat that guy with a bat and saved dear old mom. 3

Reviews with your thoughts would be appreciated! :3


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur sat in on one side of the table in the small restaurant, facing two of what he would call his 'friends', Kiku and Francis. Arthur's eye twitched, showing his annoyance. He honestly didn't even know why he was here, Francis called him only half an hour ago saying to get dressed and be ready to leave, and here they were. Apparently is irritation was shown to at least one of them, the other was oblivious to the other two since he was busy flirting with a waitress.

"Um, Arthur-san," Kiku said slowly. "Are you alright? You seem a little…" Kiku sat for a moment, thinking of a word to describe Arthur's current mood. "Tense."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the French-man, smiling away at the now giggling waitress. "Bloody brilliant."

Kiku seemed to have sensed his irritation with Francis by now, and he elbowed him in the ribs lightly without looking at him, hoping to get his attention. Francis sent a questioning glare towards Kiku before looking at Arthur, and he seemed surprised with his expression. He nodded towards the waitress gently before she walked off, still smiling like an idiot.

"Now would you please tell me why I'm here? I was very content with being at home," Arthur mumbled.

Kiku and Francis glanced at each other for a moment before Francis replied, seemingly knowing that Kiku wouldn't be doing much talking unless it was perhaps a question for himself.

"We wanted to make sure that you were paying attention to what your therapist was saying."

"Could you not say that so loud? Arthur questioned. "I'm not very fond of anyone over-hearing our conversation."

Francis sighed. "Fine. But what did he say, exactly?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his on-coming headache away.

"All he wanted to know was, basically, what was causing me to be there. Then when I asked him when he wanted me to come back, all he said was either sometime next week or when I was ready. Whatever the bloody hell that means…"

Kiku looked at Francis out of the corners of his deep brown eyes, and then glanced back at Arthur. "Perhaps he would just like for you to decide when you should come back to see him. You would know better than anyone else would, wouldn't you agree?"

Arthur sighed, somewhat defeated, and rested his chin the palm of his hand with his elbow on the table. "I guess so."

The rest of their meal was eaten in silence once the waitress brought them their food. Except, of course, Francis flirting with her.

* * *

><p>Arthur sighed to himself as he found himself once again sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room to see Dr. Jones. He still didn't see the need to call him Alfred at all, even if it <em>was<em> something to make him feel more comfortable.

He looked around the waiting room, finding that he was pretty much the only one there except for that lady he met last time sitting at the desk, and someone who looked like they should probably be admitted into a rehabilitation center for drug abuse.

Arthur sighed, looking at the clock. He had only been sitting here for five minutes, and it had felt like an hour. He broke from his reverie when the secretary called for him, saying that Dr. Jones would see him.

He stood up from his chair and walked towards his destined door, knocking on it a few times before he heard Dr. Jones reply. He opened the door and walked in quietly, only to see him sitting at a small table with a chess board sprawled on top of it, silently moving the pieces around. Arthur shut the door slowly, as if not to break his concentration.

"You play chess by yourself?" Arthur asked, still standing near the door awkwardly.

Alfred looked up from his seat, and upon seeing Arthur, smiled. "Only when there's no one else around."

Arthur stood where he was for a moment, thinking of when his mother and him used to play chess all the time when he was younger. That was before she was raped, though, and neither had played since. "I used to play when I was younger, but it's… been a while since I've played," Arthur mumbled.

Alfred motioned towards the empty chair across from him. "Well, if you're not_ too _busy,why don't you pull up a chair and join me then?"

Arthur sighed and hesitated for a moment, before replying quietly. "Sure, why not."

Arthur walked across the room and sat across from Alfred. "Turn the board, I'll take the black pieces."

They played only a few moves for a few moments before Alfred decided that it would be good to start some sort of conversation again.

"So, Arthur, why did you choose the black pieces?"

Arthur moved one of his pieces before responding again, taking a moment to actually think of an answer since he hadn't originally had one. "I'm not sure, really. It always struck me as a sneaky color, I guess."

Alfred moved one of his pieces, managing to be able to knock over one of Arthur's pieces before he replied. "It's traditionally associated with evil, or the bad side of a fight, you know."

Arthur rested his head in one of his palms, elbow on the table and thinking about his next move. "I don't think that the black pieces see it that way, though. I don't think any side for what they think is wrong. I think it's just a clash of differences…"

"Why clash, then?"

Arthur sighed as he moved another one of his pieces, his hand still resting in his palm. "…I think that when ideas enter into competition, they have to resolve dominance. I guess the only truly 'bad' idea is one that takes away self determination."

Alfred smiled softly at Arthur while picking up one of his pieces, his brows raised. "That's a pretty startling conclusion from someone who's in therapy. Kind of interesting, actually."

Arthur shrugged his shoulders, not really paying much attention anymore, and moved one of his chess pieces softly. "Check mate."

Alfred looked at him for a moment, then down at the chess board, a some what shocked expression on his face. "…I haven't lost a chess game in years. How did you manage to beat me that quick?"

Arthur shrugged, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not sure, really. You left an opening, so I took my opportunity."

Alfred studied the board and his last few moves before a smirk played at his face, replacing the shock that it was holding only moments before. He looked back up at Arthur, the smirk evident on his face. "Sneaky."

Arthur shrugged again, smiling clearly now. "Guess I'm still a little bit good at chess, at least. Don't see how, though." Arthur looked up from the chess board and when he saw Alfred looking at him, started blushing. He turned away quickly, hoping he didn't see it. If he did, he didn't say anything about it.

Alfred just shook his head at the chess board before walking towards his desk, and sat down his office chair, straightening some of his papers and picking up a thick looking file. Arthur got up and sat down in one of the chairs residing in front of Alfred's desk, looking at the file and wondering what was inside.

"So what's inside the file? Backgrounds checks?"

"Pretty much your life story, yeah."

Arthur raised a brow at that. His whole life story? He highly doubted that, this man was only a therapist. There was no way that he would be able to pull all of that information, was there?

"And how much would my life story be?"

Alfred looked at Arthur, the smile never leaving his face, and flicked open the file. As he began reading from one of what looked like to be many pages, Arthur's face gained a somewhat surprised expression.

"Arthur Kirkland, one of two sons from mother Amelia Mae Kirkland. Born April 23rd 1989 in a small town near London, England. Moved to America at the age of 9 with his mother and brother, but mom died when you were 15 and your brother was 24. Correct?"

Arthur nodded his head slowly, taking in the fact that this man _could_ apparently pull all of that information. "Correct. What else do you have in there? It's not exactly like you can't tell me. It's _about_ me, anyways."

Alfred shrugged nonchalantly, flipping through the pages and skimming over the information. "Not much, just some medical and dental records. Probably some school records and report cards. Like I said, pretty much your whole life story."

"That's kind of odd hearing from someone I hardly know. I don't know anything about you, yet you know or have access to everything about me," Arthur said, slightly uncomfortable. The idea of someone he hardly knew that may know more than some of his friends was somewhat unsettling.

"Well," Alfred said after a moment. "Ask away, then."

Arthur had to actually take a moment to respond, not having expected him to say that. "You mean to tell me that you're going to let me ask you anything, and you'll answer? I doubt that."

"How? I did say it was my goal to make you more comfortable in order for therapy to continue, so if this is what it takes, then sure. Go ahead and ask."

Arthur hesitated for a moment before pushing out a question.

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Yeah, one brother named Matthew."

"Favorite colors?"

"Red, white, and blue."

"How very patriotic of you…"

"Why thank you."

"Any pets?"

"A cat named Hero."

"What kind of name is Hero for a pet?"

"…A heroic one."


	4. Chapter 4

_'From off a hill whose concave womb reworded, a plaintful story from a sistering vale. My spirits to attend this double voiced accorded, and down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, storming her with sorrow's wind and rain.'_

Arthur read over the words of his book slowly, as if to let every word of the beautiful poetry he was currently reading seep into his mind and soul. He readjusted his sitting position that he was currently in, crossing one of legs over the other while his arm rested lightly on the small hard table that he was sitting at. He _had_ been trying to relax at home, but due to Francis calling every few minutes somewhat interrupted his peace, and resorted coming to the local diner to read.

Arthur shook his head, trying to get the stupid man out of his head. He just wanted to read his small book and be left alone. He reached out his hand and picked up his cup, taking a sip of his drink. He turned his eyes back to his book, and began reading more of the words in his mind.

_'Upon her head a platted hive of straw, which fortified her visage from the sun, whereon the thought might think sometime it saw, the carcass of spent and done. Time had not scythed all that youth begun, nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd rage.'_

"What are you reading there, Arthur?"

Arthur looked up from his small book of poetry surprised, not expecting anyone to have said his name, much less talk to him at all. When he looked up, he was met with the sight of Alfred, dressed casually, standing next to the table Arthur was sitting at. Arthur was actually startled for a moment; he wasn't used to seeing Alfred outside of his appointment sessions, so this was an odd thing indeed. It was like when someone was a child and they see a teacher outside of school.

"Um, just some Shakespeare," he replied. "Nothing really all that exciting."

Alfred sat down in the seat across from Arthur, smiling. "Well it can be exciting some times, I guess. Mostly tragic, though."

Arthur shut his book softly, a little skeptical. "You read Shakespeare?"

Alfred shrugged. "I had to read some Shakespeare for school when I was younger, does that count?"

Arthur shook his head sighing, but still somehow smiling at the man. "No, not really. It only counts if you've actually read it _without_ being forced to for school."

Alfred could only shrug once again, looking somewhat sheepish. "Oh well, then."

The two sat in an awkward silence for what seemed like hours before Arthur broke the silence, not really wanting that to be the end of their whole conversation for the evening.

"So, uh," he started weakly. "What brings you here? It doesn't seem like a very ideal place for someone like you." Arthur motioned towards Alfred, signifying the fact that he was dressed very fancy for just sitting in a diner.

"Huh?" Alfred looked down at his clothes slightly confused, not seeing anything wrong with them. Sure, they may have been a _little_ fancy. But he was a fancy guy, damn it! Alfred looked back up at Arthur, a confused expression still on his face. "I don't see anything wrong with them. They're just clothes, after all."

"Still, why would you dress so fancy if you were just walking around? Now you're sitting in a diner and look like some rich business man."

"Would you rather I walked around naked instead of dressing nicely?"

Arthur flushed, not expecting an answer like that. "I'd rather you not have come backs for everything I say."

Alfred laughed. "Sorry, but that's going to happen, Arthur. That's just one of the many perks of being me: Come backs for almost everything!"

Arthur raised a brow, amused at Alfred's behavior. He usually thought of this man as serious, smart, things like that. Not childish and giggly like he was being now. "_Almost_ everything? What don't you have come backs for?"

"It wouldn't be smart to tell you, now would it?" Alfred responded, holding up one finger and waving it back and forth in front of the others face.

Arthur could only manage to hold his best poker face, not having really expected that. _'Really, though?'_ he silently thought to himself. _'There's no way that this guy was the therapist that I was forced to go see. He's not acting like himself at all. . .'_

"Could you perhaps stop staring at me? You're kind of weirding me out here, bro."

"What?"

"You've been staring at me for the past three minutes or so. Do you have like some sort of weird medical condition that wasn't in my papers I should know about? Do you need a doctor?"

Arthur shook his head, rubbing his eyes harsher than needed. "I'm fine, just… stress, I guess."

"What kind?" asked Alfred.

"Should we seriously be discussing this in a crowded diner? Even when I'm not paying you at the moment? Hell, for all I know, you could be charging me without me even knowing!"

He watched as Alfred's face went from amused to one of confusion. "You mean you didn't know?" he asked, sounding genuinely shocked.

"Didn't know what?"

"Oh." Alfred leaned back in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. "I guess not, then." He shrugged, not really seeing the point in answering.

"Excuse me, but _didn't know what?_"

"Sorry, I just assumed you knew. I guess he didn't tell you then." Alfred sighed, and folded his arms on the table, leaning forward slightly. "Francis has been paying for your sessions so far. Says he's going to keep paying for them, whenever you need them."

Arthur's face became blank, not really knowing what to say.

"…Um, why?"

"Hell if I know," Alfred replied. "Says he owed you for something, didn't say anything other than that."

Arthur quickly scanned his brain quickly, drawing nothing that would end with Francis owing him something this expensive. "No he doesn't, he doesn't owe me anything at all."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger. _You_ were the one that asked. Now anyways, about this stress…"

Arthur sighed, now holding his head in is hands. "_Look,_ I don't have any stress that needs to be taken care of. Even if I did, which I don't, I really wouldn't think that this would be the best of places to talk about it. No matter _how much_you're getting paid by the frog for it."

"Well, I'm actually off the clock right now," Alfred said smartly.

"How does that change the fact about us talking about my made up stress condition?"

"Because now, since I'm not technically working right now, this would just be a talk between pals!" he stated excitedly. Arthur's expression went from irritated to completely and blatantly shocked, and Alfred quickly grabbed Arthur's arm and proceeded to drag him outside in the cold, but not before Arthur could manage to get a grip on his book that he was previously reading so as not to leave it on the table.

"I don't see why you're so energetic about this," said Arthur. "I don't have anything that needs to be discussed. Besides, we're out in the freezing cold at night. This isn't exactly an ideal situation for either of us."

"Well maybe not for you," Alfred said happily as he zipped up his jacket. "But right now, for me, is a wonderfully ideal situation."

Arthur could only stare at him at roll his eyes, beginning to walk down the sidewalk towards his apartment, only assuming that Alfred would follow suit. "How is this an ideal situation for you to be asking me things?"

"Just is." Alfred walked besides Arthur, looking up at the stars that were filling the dark night sky, occasionally getting blocked out by the bright fluorescent street lights. "This would be the part where you tell me about your problems now. And not as a patient, but as a friend."

Arthur raised a brow at Alfred, highly skeptical about that. He wouldn't really consider him a friend, per se, but more of an acquaintance of some sort. Maybe a friend later down the road, once he actually knew him more than he did at the moment, but he still doubted it. "Look," said Arthur carefully. "As much as I appreciate you trying to help me, now isn't a good time. I have stuff to catch up on anyways, but Francis kept on pestering me." He could see Alfred give him a questioning look from his side, but decided to ignore it. "I'm just focused on getting home right now."

Arthur only had a few moments peace before he tripped on the sidewalk, the blocks of cement not even with each other. Alfred reached out quickly; grabbing his arm and pulling him back up before he hit the ground. "Too focused on getting home that you can't watch where you're stepping, huh?" Alfred asked teasingly, with a laugh. Arthur became slightly red, not looking him in the eyes. "Thanks," he muttered quietly, regaining his footing before walking again.

"Sure thing," said Alfred happily, apparently forgetting to pester him momentarily. "You just need to get home before you fall again and end up hurting yourself; that would pretty dreadful, if I do say so myself. You may break a bone or something."

"I really doubt that I would break a bone from falling on a sidewalk, though. Maybe a scrape or two, but still," said Arthur. He started walking again, this time actually paying attention to where he was walking, and managed to miss another bump on the sidewalk so that he wouldn't trip again.

For the next few minutes, they walked in silence, a car occasionally breaking it by driving past on the road. After what they had last said to each other, Arthur assumed that Alfred was just going to let Arthur talk when he was ready whilst walking, as if not to make him mad. When Arthur looked over at Alfred, he wasn't even watching where he was going, like he was so self confident that he wasn't going to, like Arthur had done previously. He was, instead, looking up stars yet again.

"You seem really interested in those stars, you know," he said hesitantly. "Why?"

Alfred looked over at him for a moment, breaking his contact with the stars and stopped his pace. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Well," Arthur said carefully, "just looks like you're watching them, like you're waiting for something to happen. They're just stars, so why are you staring at them so intensely?"

They both looked at each other, now standing a few feet apart, Arthur having stopped his walking as well a short time after Alfred. "Just really interested in stars, I guess," said Alfred. _'He isn't a very good liar, is he?' _Arthur thought to himself plainly.

"Try again." Alfred looked confused, though Arthur knew he was trying to cover up that he was caught in a lie. Alfred looked conflicted for a moment before finally giving in, shrugging his shoulders heavily. "It's just something my dad told me about stars this one time when I was a kid, since I was into astronomy and what not back then. It was special, so whenever I get the chance, I just like to look at the stars." Arthur looked at him, somewhat confused looking like Alfred was just moments before, but genuinely confused. "I don't get it though," he said, "what could have been so special about it?"

Alfred looked at him for a moment before giving him a sad smile and then walking past him, obviously wanting to get walking again before they froze. "Well," he started lightly. "That was the last thing he said to me before he died in a car accident." Arthur, not having really expected something like that out of this person that he knew to be so cheerful, let out that a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding in, and watched his breath float in the air for a second before walking through it to catch up with Alfred.

Once he caught up with him, he didn't really know what to say. He looked at Alfred, noticing that he wasn't looking up at the night sky any more to watch the stars. "I'm sorry to hear about that. What about your mum?" Alfred stared ahead, as if he didn't need to see all of the rocks that he was kicking in what looked like the beat of a song, with a rock every second or two. "I don't talk to her much, she wasn't very fond of my dad, but I was. We just had different views, I guess," he said calmly.

Arthur arched a brow at him, beginning to feel a bit skeptical. "Different views? What do you mean by that?" Alfred stopped walking, and Arthur stopped beside him. "Pretty much everything." After that, they stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, though in reality, was probably only a few short seconds. "Anyways," Alfred said shrugging it off, "when you're actually ready to talk, just call. Francis should have my number." Alfred began walking away, and Arthur, who was very confused, looked to his side to see that he was already home. He looked back to Alfred, and saw that his hand was in the air waving behind him, and he noticed that Alfred was glancing up again at the stars. Arthur waited a moment before putting his own hand up to wave, and then rubbed his neck.

He shook his head, wondering why Alfred would so easily talk to him when he himself wouldn't open up about anything that easily. He sighed, and walked through his mist of breath so he could open his door and go inside to sleep. Before doing so, he hadn't noticed Alfred stop walking and turn around to watch him go inside, before continuing down the sidewalk to go home himself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN; **Oh god, I missed you guys. ;_; Here, have 6 pages of pretty much nothing but dialog.


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